be just fine. You got a costume with you?” But he knew from the look in her eyes, that she didn't.
“I'm sorry, I …”
“Never mind.” And with that Maggie turned her attention to them again.
“You gonna sit on your fat black ass all day, Jimmy, or are we going to do an audition? Personally, I don't give a damn, but Charlie wants me to see her do her stuff.” She looked malevolently at Zoya, as she prayed that she wouldn't fail dismally. But she followed his suggestions as he played and Charlie, the director, wandered past again, muttering as he watched her. He wanted her to hurry up so he could audition two new comedians and a stripper.
“Shit. Just what I don't need here … a lady.” He said it like the ultimate insult,“… Shake your ass … there, that's it … let's see those legs … more …” She hiked up her skirt as she blushed and continued to dance as Jimmy rooted for her. She had beautiful legs, and the grace that had come from thirteen years of dancing had never left her. “What are you for chrissake?” The short fat man bellowed at her as she blushed, “A virgin? People don't come here to pray. They come here to watch broads dance. You think you can do that without looking like you just been raped?”
“I'll try, sir … I'll do my best “
“Good. Then be back here tonight at eight o'clock.” Maggie stalked off in obvious disgust as he left, and Jimmy gave a cheer, and jumped up to give Zoya a hug.
“Hey, Mama! We did it!”
“I can't thank you enough,” she shook his hand and her eyes thanked him warmly. “I have two children, I … we …” She was suddenly fighting back tears, as the old black man watched her, “I need the job very badly …” The tears spilled onto her cheeks as she wiped them away with embarrassed relief, unable to speak for a moment.
“Don't you worry. You gonna do just fine. See you tonight.” He smiled and went back to the card game he'd been losing when Maggie called him.
Zoya walked all the way home to the apartment, and thought about what she'd done. Unlike her audition with the Ballet Russe years before, there was no feeling of victory and achievement. Just relief that she had a job and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and degradation, but it was the only thing she could do, and it was at night, she wouldn't have to leave Sasha with people she didn't know. For the moment, it seemed like the perfect job, except that it was so awful.
She explained to Nicholas that night that she had to go out. She didn't say why or where she was going. She didn't want to have to explain to him that she'd taken a job as a chorus girl. The echo of Charlie's words still rang in her ear … “shake your ass … let's see those legs … what are you? A virgin? …” To their way of thinking, she was. At almost thirty-one years of age, in spite of the hardships in her life, she had always been protected from people like him, and the people she was going to dance for.
“Where are you going, Mama?”
“Out for a little while.” She had already put Sasha to bed. “Don't stay up too late,” she admonished and kissed him, hugging him for a moment as though she were about to go to her own execution. “Go to bed in half an hour.”
“When will you be back?” He eyed her suspiciously from his bedroom door.
“Later.”
“Is something wrong, Mama?” He was a perceptive child, and he was learning early about the cruel turns of fate that could change the course of a lifetime in a single moment.
“No, nothing's wrong, sweetheart.” She smiled at him then. “I promise.” At least they would have a little money.
But she was in no way prepared for what it would be like, the crude jokes, the vulgar girls, the sleazy costumes, and the comedians who pinched her behind as she hurried past them. But when the music began, and the curtain went up, she did her best for the jeering, laughing, excited crowd, and no one complained when she was out of step more than once. Unlike the Ballet Russe of long ago, here no one knew the difference. All they wanted to see was a good show of gams, and a bunch of